


Serendipity

by Imperium



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers 2018, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Hot Tub Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of Steve Rogers' time in Prison, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Seduction, Steve Tony and Thor in a hot tub, Voyeurism, What was Marvel expecting really, mention of past unhealthy relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 01:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imperium/pseuds/Imperium
Summary: He was… He waswatchingthem. Like they were performers. Like they wereentertainers.Like this was a show he was due. Thor was not only a Viking God - he was aKing.OrSteve and Tony have sex to entertain Thor.





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> This work has not been beta-ed or even proofread by any human that's not yours truly.  
So... have fun, I guess.  
This is from Avengers (2018) - TOW Steve, Tony and Thor share a bathtub.

When one lived the life of a superhero; it was an easy enough thing to assume that family was home, and love - the threads of content sewing them together. Easy enough to accept victory as a given; success a team effort for good rather than glory. 

Nothing to say that being a Superhero did not have its perks. 

But benefits for the sake of the good fight, and just benefitting were two exceptionally different things. Tony would dare to go ahead and say there was almost a certain grandiosity to it: fighting, winning, and bleeding together.

Easy to say 'I am Spartacus' with fifty others yelling the same next to you after all. Context considered.

He smiles and leans back, the water flicks taunting over his skin - lets his head roll to the side, lose on its neck, eyes half-lidded. It’s a pleasant, luxurious thing - _ pleasure _. All the more alluring for all the hoops people jumped through to get to her.

His brain hums in exhausted content.

“It was a great battle, was it not?” Thor tosses his hammer into the air, grasps the handle with his Uru arm as it comes back down. He's dripping wet. The water dances: a move for a maze down his body; gleaming as gold as Asgard herself in the hard dip between his pecs and over his stomach - down his hip bones to meet the water: like a delta. Thor is, of course, no lesser a force of nature than that.

He drags his gaze back up with difficulty to find Thor smirking at him. 

Tony grins back lazily, unashamed. He won’t admit to how happy it makes him; some kind of abstract satisfaction in watching Thor at his element: how sublime he was, how _exquisite_, it must have been agonizing for however long Tony had lost the privilege.

“It was,” Tony says in response to Thor's question, pushes off from the ledge behind him. Battles were always great once won. The arrogance of success. Invincibility was a very good feeling. Tony would know that better than most. 

Moreover, what did Thor possibly have to regret? The smug fiend that he was! _Tony's_ cock still aches between his legs. Thor had taken what he could; because that’s what everyone always did when Tony gave them the chance - dancing like his presence was all he had to offer.

Not that he should complain. Sex was as momentary and fleeting as the emotions behind it; and none of them were the types to take advantage, not really.

He lets his lips curl, welcomingly; moves forward, swaying his hips, trails his hand behind him in the water.

Thor's eyes follow Tony like a bloodhound on a scent.

“What do you seek my friend?” Thor asks,- _teases;_ eyes dark in promise.

Tony laughs, looks down, pretentiously coy, “Oh! You know” he flutters his fingers through the air. “Enlightenment.” 

“Enlightenment?” _surprise,_ “For yourself?” Thor is almost cruelly amused.

“For us all,” Tony says back; “But right now, for _ us _ \- as in,” he slides a bit closer, “you and me.”

Thor stares right through Tony, eyes boring holes into his skull, “Why do we need Enlightenment?” a jerk of the head, “you and I?” 

Tony smiles. “You left me here, aching and _ abandoned_.” he spreads his arms wide; showing his brand new body off to Thor, “What do we do about that?”

He looks back up. Thor looks satisfied with himself, and Tony has competitiveness issues a mile too wide. He has a score to settle. 

The water tends an almost greenish sheen to the air, his skin shimmers like he is something exotic, playing at seduction: a game Thor had witnessed a million times to possibly more satisfactory results. 

But Thor lets him have his indulgence, a mummer’s ploy - _fools rush in where angels fear to tread _and Tony has made an art-form of being a fool.

Oh! The glories of sentimentality. Tony should just surrender to the Freudianism.

His skin tingles pleasantly as he runs his arm down the length of his body, down his chest, over the sensitive skin of his stomach, let’s his knuckles trail over the skin at his lower back, to play his fingers over the curve of his ass, between the cheeks to feel where he is gaping: open and loose. Thor had played him like an instrument: a chord, a string for every note he dared tease away from Tony’s mouth. Like it was a great privilege - the greatest of them all. Like Tony was a Stradivarius and Thor: Antonio; the violin - the pinnacle of all his achievements.

He is swollen, and leaking - his bruised mess of a skin tingles in appreciation, in profound _gratitude_. 

Fickle thing. 

Tony drags his hand back around, plays it over his body, drags it up, _ teases_, the pleasure is almost distant, he's enjoying the warmth more, the goosebumps that trail in the wake of his fingers. He throws his head back: rolls a nipple, tugging at it gently between his thumb and forefinger, lets the other hand slide suggestively into the water.

Maybe putting on a show for a friend would have been more embarrassing, but Thor had known Tony since he was twenty-one years old, and clothes had always had the bad habit of disappearing in Tony's general vicinity. Shame was a distant utopia. He skirts his hand up his throat, let the other reach back and sink into his hair, grabbing a fist full, pulling it back - exposing his all too vulnerable- _frail_ humanity to Thor's heated gaze.

He's breathing sharply, Tony can tell, even with his eyes closed. He's breathing sharply and clenching his fists, he's _aching _with the effort of not just grabbing Tony and having him again. It shoots sharp tingles of pleasure up his spine, his legs spread open accommodating and ready in response.

He slides his hand back out of his hair, back in his front to spread wide over the finger-shaped bruise Thor had left over the curve of his waist. Even on a trace, Thor's palm feels massive. 

He rolls his eyes half-open, let's them lid, looking at Thor through his lashes. Smiles a bit. It's silly, but Tony relishes the levity.

Thor roves his eyes over Tony’s body: a satisfaction: the conquering victor. “You needn’t ask Dear Friend,” he says, his voice thrums, deep and resounding. 

Tony smiles, pulls his hands off his body, slides into Thor’s lose grasp, “On the contrary, Thor, - I always need to ask.” Thor smiles at him, an achingly fond look in his eyes, “Have we not gotten past this?” he murmurs into Tony’s lips. “This- this banal need to ask each other what we think? Do we not know each other better?” Tony lays his head over Thor’s chest, “We do” he agrees, “But times like these, people like us,-” Thor’s arms tighten over Tony’s body. It may have been years, but fights amongst lovers always tended to leave its mark. “We do not need to remember weaker times,” he says. 

“They may not necessarily have been weak.” Steve offers from behind. Tony flings around. Thor, however, seems remarkably unperturbed for someone interrupted in a time of vulnerability. “We are defined by what we are at our weakest.” Steve shakes his head, “Those moments do not define us.”

“When did you get here?” Tony asks, ignoring everything else. Steve grins. “I would not miss your shows for all the wealth in the world, Anthony,” he says, his eyes, teasing. The dark from the past few months seemed to recede every day. Prison had left its mark on Steve. Rattled him like fewer worse things in his past had not managed to. But he was getting better: much to general delight. When Tony had woken that morning in Steve’s arms: he’d been smiling in his sleep. 

Now, Steve smirks, “What a show,” he breathes, something dreamy, something awed. 

Tony feels his skin heat, “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demands.

“And break the lovely scene you’d been setting? Excuse an old man his indulgences.” 

Tony opens his mouth, but Thor gets his words in: “Join us, Captain. The water is warm,” he flicked his head toward the water, before turning around to look at Tony, “The company,- _ warmer _.”

“I intend to.” Steve was a methodical stripper, nothing lewd or jealous in the way he moved, he’d never been one for passion - not in things like this. There was precision in his strength, a focused ferocity even as he shrugged off his offending garments, not the least bit ashamed of the scars and stitches keeping him together. 

Steve is a level of beauty Tony has never been able to successfully quantify, or even comprehend. So he lays there, ogling at him unashamedly, let’s his eyes slide over the mighty shoulders, the dip of his spine, the curve of his ass, the crease in between - like it was nothing but a great tantalising secret - a secret he longed to explore - to open it up, and play his tongue over, feel Steve wiggle and gasp beneath his tongue - easily conquered, glad to surrender. 

Thor slides his arms around Tony’s waist, locking them - arm over the wrist. The tip of Tony’s cock grazes the careless edges of Thor’s fingers. He sets his head by Tony’s shoulder, breathing hot air into his damp neck - “_ Look at him. _” he whispers. 

Tony shivers, Thor’s voice crackles like thunder - coiling over his hair, static electricity, strong enough to burn him down. “He’d have you here, you know,” Thor mused, “In the water, right before me.” Tony trembled. “He’d have you out in the kitchen, where any of our esteemed colleagues might stumble onto you. Iron Man with his legs in the air, so very generous - as only you could ever have been.”

“Thor” Tony gasps. He raises to the balls of his feet, but Thor was too massive, too insurmountable - his strength so vast, Tony feels like a squirming elk between them. A pup, a plaything, a toy: so absolutely owned - wagging his tail for the master who’d dared to tame him. “Thor” he moans again, as Thor rests a thumb over his tip, rolling over the skin. He wouldn’t let his hand stray anywhere else. He had no need to, Thor’s hand something far too distinct to be human - Tony would recognize it anywhere in all the world.

Thor hmms, sliding the Uru arm down his body, over his stomach, flicking at the water dotted down the length of it, playfully chasing the ones that rolled away from him, “He’d have you in the Battlefield. His body over yours. He’d have you before the gun of a madman. He’d have you if you fell and he was all that remained to catch you.”

Steve splashes forward. He’s a shark in the water, muscles coiling and loosening beneath skin far too thin, the water frothing at his thighs. 

The sheer magnificence of him almost blows Tony’s mind away.

“Do not sing my glories, Thor,” Steve says, standing before the two of them. “I’ve not much to speak off for myself.” 

Thor smiles, pushing Tony out of his arms and into Steve’s. “You mistake me,” he says, ever so patient, “The honour of singing your glories is a privilege I shall not soon forget.” musing - Thor runs a hand down Steve’s face, “You are,- neither of you, the easily forgotten types.” 

How charming of him. 

Tony smiles grimly. “How many times have you said that before?” he wonders out loud. It’s not designed to injure, but curiosity had its price, and so did love. Tony is accustomed to paying for both. Thor smiles, pardoning the transgression, something irrevocably sad in his eyes, “I am a God, My Friend.” he says, “Let me have my mysteries.” 

He smiles again, something fragile and breakable in his demeanour, turns around laying back against the water. Muscles bunching in his biceps as he folds them behind his head: He was… He was _ watching _ them. Like they were performers. Like they were _ entertainers_. Like this was a show he was due. Thor was not only a Viking God - he was a _ King_. 

It shouldn’t have been so surprising. His cock shouldn’t have jumped to attention, hard and leaking over his stomach, flushed and so very ready for Thor’s aesthetic pursuits. 

Tony was used to being an instrument of visual appreciation to his lovers. Steve had drawn him in ways that would have put the Athenians to shame. Legs open, with Steve’s spend still staining his skin. By the window, head thrown back - a scrap of white draped over his shoulder, the only consideration for his modesty. In the bath, amongst roses and candles, in the Gym after a bout of sparring - if Steve so pleased, his boxing glove on Tony’s own hand. It was flattering, it truly was. Tony did enjoy the way eyes tended to darken around him. Enjoyed the way strong men like Thor or Steve struggled to breathe straight when he got too close. Enjoyed the way a well-fitting suit could make even the Illuminati sputter and lose focus in his presence. 

It was a luxury, something he let them have. Vulnerable here, with his arms thrown back and up over Steve’s shoulder, legs spread with only Thor to watch: it feels like something much more.

Steve mouths at his skin, tongue laving in proprietary curls beneath his ear. “Did you start without me, Dearest?” he asked, his arm sliding down to thumb at his nipple, almost absentmindedly.

Tony turns around in his arms, “You took too long to get here,” he teases, runs a hand down Steve’s lovely chest to take away any imagined sting, “I got lonely.” 

Steve hmms, “So, Thor was my replacement?” he shakes his head in amused contentment. Tony’s heart flutters in his chest: it’s not novel, this feeling, this pervasive love for a soul so close to his own. He’s faced a million battles in Steve’s side to know,- “You could never be replaced, not even by a God.” Steve looks satisfied, a little validation for his own brand of ego: Steve had no fear of Tony’s promiscuity, he feared replacement - rejection. Tony had chosen far too many things over Steve in the past few years to belay that fear honestly. 

But, Tony has always been a generous lover, a painfully honest one. When Steve took him into his arms, that day when Tony had woken up after months of sleep: kissed him like he’d found an oasis- things had changed. Tony could no longer afford games, with who he was, and who Steve was: lies were out of the question. Lies had gotten them into this mess. Honesty and love would get them out. Frivolous as it may seem to the sceptic. 

Tony had learnt the lovely art of hope. Even Faith seemed an alluring concept - faith in Steve had always come easy. It was a line he skirted, love and adoration for Steve, Steve’s tender skin and Steve’s own self - the messy, judgemental, cruel one, that Tony had grown to love almost as much as the bright sunlight and the rolling hills of everything else Steve.

Loving Steve, and Thor to an extent was like drowning, drowning and finding the lone raft sent in salvation. 

How far could one go to survive? Was murder justifiable if it was done with the proverbial ‘greater good’? Killing a world to save another? Things like these were too massive, too all-consuming for the frailty of the human mind to process. Lies and beliefs helped them believe they were a smaller part of a structural whole. That personal integrity would keep the building together - and it would, to a remarkable extent, Tony would admit to that, at least. 

But a thing could only ever be as strong as it’s foundations - and Steve, Tony and Thor had tied the coils off this institution together with their own veins. 

He reaches up to cup Steve’s precious face in his palm, “I’d destroy you,” he whispers into Steve’s lips. It’s a warning, one among many that Steve would later tell himself he hoped was the last one. “You already have,” he says instead. “I cannot seem to get enough.” 

“I do not seem to get anything,” Thor calls out from where he is laying, naked and flopped over like an exhausted jellyfish, there is still something imperial about him, something royal. 

“You are too far,” Steve says, lays a hand enclosing Tony’s cock almost entirely in his own massive palm, “You cannot claim victory if you’re too late to the battle Thor.” Steve grins, and rubs his hand down, squeezing, almost massaging Tony’s cock. Tony moans, pushing his hips frivolously into Steve, almost painfully hard in his hand. Thor grins back, both of them ignoring Tony; predators circling around each other. It’s almost adorable: for how unnecessary it is. 

Tony moans at it, he feels almost _ dizzy _ with the heat. Steve’s hand over his cock is all there is in the world. _ Steve _is all there is in the world. His entire being a rhapsody of music and art. Tony had surrendered even before the ice was broken.

He mouths at Steve’s shoulder, keen and soft.

Steve’s other hand slides behind his body, opening him up where he is still swollen and red, sliding a finger in with remarkable ease. “Seems you even finished without me,” he says, fingers wet with Thor’s spend inside Tony.

“Turns out, I wasn’t the late one,” Thor says, his eyes are warm, fond. “The war, however, it seems is yours, Captain.” 

“I’m not a thing to be claimed,” Tony breathes, he doesn’t believe they think that; not really. He’s more curious as to what they have to say. Steve hmms. “No.” he acquiesces, “You are far too big to be anything so easily claimed. Took me fifteen years to come close.” He pats Tony’s hair, “Not something easily forgotten.” 

Tony raises up a bit on his toes, the bedrock is uneven, or he wouldn’t have had to do that. It does not smart, and Tony knows Steve would appreciate the illusion of submission. He traces a gleaming drop of water down the side of Steve’s face. He shivers, trembles, arms tensing and slacking around Tony’s body, like he didn’t know any better. Like he didn’t care that they’d learned to exploit weaknesses and vulnerability years ago. Steve was not one for being particularly untrusting.

Besides, Steve had a sure enough grip on Tony’s body to break it in two whenever the need struck, or rage called for it. Tony’s entire being, by now, is long accustomed to crushing beneath the weight of Steve’s shield; This feels inanely trivial. 

Tony traces the frisky droplet down to Steve’s lips: the plush rosy softness of them, how they immediately open to Tony’s questing thumb. 

Steve sucks his finger into his mouth, laves his tongue over the pad of it: now smooth and devoid of calluses, built up with no trace of his history as he was. Steve licks Tony’s thumb further into his mouth, hallowing his cheeks around it, sucking in earnest, like he wished it were Tony’s cock instead that was resting its heavy weight on his tongue, his arm tightening around Tony’s waist, almost cruel in their strength. 

“One cannot forget a concept so easy.” Tony smirks, shrugging away past grievances, “I’d lay fault with you both if you did.” 

“Is that what you think of yourself as? An Idea?” Steve mouths over his neck, kissing down the side, the slope over his Adam’s apple, down the dimple where his collarbones met.

Tony groans, tugging Steve’s cock into his hand. 

“I only think of myself as what I _ am _, Steve.” He gasps, arching into Steve’s own grip, and rolling back his foreskin, bending down to Steve’s chest and warming his nipple within Tony’s own mouth, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it, as Steve arched, body bending back pushing into Tony’s mouth, whining helplessly. 

Tony pulls away when he reaches too hard, a wet strand of drool connecting Steve’s flushed red skin to Tony’s mouth, “Or what I could be,” he hums. 

Steve looks confused. Hair adorably mussed, “What you could be, _ is _an idea.” he says, hoisting Tony out of the water, and walking to the shore, where Thor languidly stroked his cock, observing them, “What one could be depends on circumstance.” he muses, still holding his cock in a loose fist, his tip flushed and heavy peaking out. “See, Loki,” he added.

“Situations around a person make them who they are,” Tony agrees.

“Not all our susceptible,” Steve smiles, laying Tony out on the bank, flat against the floor, legs raised, and over his shoulders, “Not all are adaptable either.” 

Tony sighs, rolling his shoulders over the ground, stretching. “Let us not discuss the gleaming triumphs and failures of behaviourism, Steven.” he says, reaching out to Steve’s shoulders, as Steve thumbs at his winking hole, “mmm, come here.”

Steve smirks, dancing his thumb inside Tony’s body, “I’m just fine here Anthony.” he bends down spreading Tony’s thighs apart. 

Tony shivers. There is something about Steve, so powerful, so great, so _ him _, there between Tony’s legs, wanting to give him pleasure that makes him almost faint with need. He beckons him closer.

Steve’s tongue is warm where it touches Tony’s opening. Warm and wet. Despite his reputation, Tony has not actually had many lovers who’d done this for him. Done this _ to _ him, certainly. But _ for _are a scant few, and Steve is so very gentle. Tugging Tony into his mouth, giant palms pressed over Tony knees, kissing at him, tongue peeking in almost like foreplay, rolling Thor’s come out of his body, and pressing it into his thighs. 

Tony groans, loud - not for show, not anymore, not ever for these two; groans and pushes his hips down as much as he can into Steve’s mouth.

Steve is wet, _ messy _, as he laves his tongue over Tony. Enthusiastic and expert, lips moving in admirable sync with his tongue. His tongue is warm, his hands cold, the room is heady with heat, but Tony’s skin pebbles where it’s laid over the ground. Pliant and open and used. The jarring difference of it at all, the disarming contrast leaves him even more exposed. Open and wanton - waiting to be owned. 

First Thor had taken him, strong and forceful: up against the glass with the whales swimming behind them. Now, Steve would stake his claim. A stupid game of Russian Roulette where Tony was always the gun.

Tony rolls his body, arm thrown over his forehead, hiding his face. 

This is a level of vulnerability Tony wouldn’t trust, not even with himself, let alone other people. 

They accommodate him. The lovely sweet beings that they are, they don’t say a word. Steve goes back to eating him out, and Thor holds the hand that Tony splayed over his stomach: a gentle, sure grip. 

So very true, he was. Their gentle giant.

Tony let his eyes open, a small infinitesimal glare, Thor with one hand dragging down the length of Tony’s body: setting his nerves afire, down under the water where it, without doubt, closed around Steve’s cock. 

Steve keened over Tony, his ‘hmm’ thrumming into Tony’s own body, the pleasured sound shorting out Tony’s brain. “Steve” he gasped, reaching an arm out to his hair, sinking his fingers into the lovely golden folds; pushing himself down into Steve’s face. Steve whined some more, pulling back, peppering sweet chaste kisses into Tony’s skin, mouth still so very eager like he could not get enough of him. When Tony arches and whimpers, Steve grunts out - _ frustrated _ ; tugs Tony’s body out of the bank, his palms closed over the globes of his ass, down hovering over the water, with Steve spreading him open to the damp heat. “Tony, Tony, Tony,-” he chants, his voice half-muffled, buried into Tony’s body like it was all he knew. Tony bit his lip, pulling his hands away from Steve’s and burying them in his own hair, instead. _ Oh! Oh! _The damp air played over his skin, his open mouth, his nipples, an alluring lover off its own - like it was so very tired of being the perpetually mute spectator. He groans again.

Steve Rogers: Gratification be thy name.

Steve was convulsing into the water, sharp and uncoordinated, hips clenching and pumping, his hands tightening over Tony’s ass, opening him almost painfully wide. Tongue dancing inside his body with focused intent. Whatever was left of Thor long cleaned out. Its Steve’s flesh over Tony’s own. Rubbing into his walls, his lips mouthing wetly where Tony was speared open. The pleasure is almost too much, too overwhelming. Tony wiggled and gasped, his body twisting and digging into the rock in uncomfortable places, wiggled as Steve curled his tongue inside Tony, curled it, opened Tony up with his thumbs, pushing himself in further like he could barely get enough- all the while hips pistoning into Thor’s fist under the water: sweat gleaming in wet drops on his forehead, glinting at the tips of his blond lashes, shoulders bunching with the weight of Tony’s legs, thumbs holding him open: like this was all he’d ever wanted. 

Tony was so close, he was _ so close _ , but it wasn’t _ enough _ \- just, just a bit _ more _,-

“How long will you both dance to this tune?” Thor asks, coming to their rescue.

“Neither of you is aware, on what you want, or what you need.” he shrugs, carelessly, “ you do not even know _ who you are, _” Thor says: “monsters or saviours.”

‘Ahh-hh” Tony moans, even to the unaware, he’d sound broken and wrecked. Steve lets one of his hands slide away from where they’re buried inside Tony, to instead grab the hand lax at his side.

“You do not know who you are,” he repeats “but _ I do _.” Tony blinks his eyes open. Thor smiles at him, something age-old and strong in his eyes, ”I have since the two of you were no more than mere children playing at legends.” he raises a fondly amused brow.

And what a picture must they make? More than a thousand years younger than he was: squabbling and pretending he wasn’t smart enough to look right through to them.

Thor’s already granting them their apology before they can make it. Forgiveness comes so easy to him. What a relief it must be to be a God.

Thor bends down, eye level with Steve and Tony, his breath blowing hotly between them.

Tony gasps, body curling into himself as Steve kissed his hole.” Thor laid a heavy hand on Tony’s stomach, “Do not look for Revelation elsewhere my friends,” he assured, “I am _ it _for you.”

His hand slides down from Tony's stomach, to loosely curl around his cock. A petty graze of his fingers.

They hold him down, fond nostalgia and tender love, not something even he could escape. When Tony comes with a miserable wrung out moan, hands grasping for them both, he is utterly incapable of moving, but he _ is _held.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Later, he is sleepy and mussed, laid over Thor’s cape with Steve on one side and Thor on the other. Tony’s hair blows in tandem with Thor’s breath. Brushing cool and cleansing over his forehead, Thor’s arms tight around his hips and Steve’s. 

“Was it true?” Tony asks into Steve’s chest. Steve ‘hmms’ “about wha-?” he mumbles, his voice blurry with sleep. Tony shifts uncomfortably, “about _ having _me.” Steve shifts, looking down at Tony in surprise, “always.” he said, like it was ridiculous that it was even in question. 

Tony looks down, burying his face back into Steve’s chest, “What if I hurt you again?” he asks. It was stupid,- this... this, need for assurance, but communication was their greatest failure - and Steve, was the Avengers’ greatest glory. But, Steve,- Steve just smiles, ever so gentle, and Tony had almost forgotten that he could smile like that, easy and weightless. He raises a hand to push Tony’s hair out of his face, down the slope of his cheekbone, to cup his neck as he was so partial to, pulling Tony into his arms even tighter- “Then, I will have you in the night,” he prays into Tony’s hair, “singing you to sleep, and holding you in my arms like we were all there was to this world.”

As promises went, no one could really hold a candle to Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I had two drafts for this fic. One, an 8k long monstrosity I've taken to mentally labelling as 'that thing I will never think about.' This, I drafted a few days back and slept on. Mostly because I hate accepting defeat and the original was sucking the life force out of me.  
P.P.S. If you see something that seems familiar, that's cause it probably is. I've been binging Hannibal and my brain is an unconscious copy cat. Please have mercy.  
P.P.P.S. Punctuation still sucks.


End file.
